Running out of time
by ThisWasMe
Summary: John is trapped with Molly's dead body when Moriarty returns with a plan to end their little game once and for all. Can Sherlock get to John before Jim uses Molly's corpse as a host for the weapon to kill John? Beta'd by Heiko Hiersche


"Sherlock?" John's voice sounded tinny and small through the poor speaker's on the consulting detective's phone. "Sherlock.. I think you should get to Bart's as soon as possible… There's a bit of a problem..."

Sherlock frowned, the phone lodged between his ear and shoulder. "What do you want, John? I'm busy finding the rate at which sheep's eyes rot in the presence of varying factor. Not that you would appreciate this." The taller man prodded at one of the various eyes floating in a bubbling liquid.  
The Doctor sighed quietly, sounding both exasperated and shaken, "Sherlock, just bloody well get down here." John paused for a brief second before quickly murmuring. "He's back... Moriarty is back..." Sherlock smiled silently and ended the call, walking away from his experiment and grasping his scarf and coat off of the back of his chair and quickly flying out of the door of 221B and into a passing cab, reeling off the address.

Sherlock quickly jumped out of the taxi, throwing money at the driver. He burst through the doors of the Hospital only to stop at the entrance to the mortuary by the panic-stricken face of Dr Watson. The shorter man was rapidly blurting out a string of words to the consulting detective but Sherlock could only focus on the limp body of Molly Hooper hanging from a rope attached to the ceiling. His eyes were drawn to the small piece of paper attached to her chest upon which he could read the final signature of 'JM xo'. His immediate reaction was to rush in so he could tear off the paper to read the inscription and to inspect the curious bulges in Molly's coat but he was halted by the yell of the Doctor, signalling that those curious bulges were in fact explosives which were wired to set off when the door was moved. Sherlock's hand froze on the panel of the door, John's head stooping with relief.

The Doctor looked up to the younger of the pair, silently questioning him on what to do. Sherlock instructed him to fetch him the note and read the message on it out loud.

"Tut tut, my dear, not  
paying attention to all  
of the signs. Poor Molly  
here seems to be keen  
on the irony of the  
place, shame her death  
seems to be an accident.  
Maybe you will pay more  
attention to me now.  
JM xo"

Sherlock had become used to the ever constant presence of Molly in the labs and had grown to enjoy her small attempts to gain his attention. His new found knowledge of her death had stirred up more emotion then he would ever admit to anyone and the realisation that Moriarty was the cause of her death had brought even more resentment for the consulting criminal than he had before. Sherlock spared one last look at her pale, life-less form before turning without another word and leaving the Doctor alone with the dead body of Miss Hooper.

John yelled after him, stopping quickly before he pushed open the door and set off Moriarty's trigger, cursing the taller man for leaving him with no exit. After waiting for 15 minutes, John dropped into one of the plain chairs nearby and pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes, groaning quietly.

He sat in silence for another 10 minutes, Molly's un-seeing eyes boring into John's closed ones. The doctor hoped for Sherlock to return but knew it was unlikely that he would come back before he had completed whatever he had gone to do.

John was beginning to lose all hope for Sherlock's return when there was a sharp knock on the window accompanied by slightly heavy breathing. The short man quickly jumped out of his seat, throwing the window open and holding his hand out for the one and only consulting detective. Sherlock looked up briefly at John before accepting his offer of help and climbing through the window.

John laughed slightly at the absurdity of Sherlock climbing through the window of the mortuary whilst Sherlock quickly inspected the trip wire connecting the explosives to the movement of the door. A simple connecting wire meant that any movement of the door would release the pin on the explosives, blowing up the room and anyone in the small surrounding area.

Not risking moving the body in case it, too, set off the explosives, the pair began to look for a way to deactivate the bomb when a small voice started on the speakers around the room.

"Well, Sherlock, seems you found a way in to be with your little...pet." The familiar Irish drawl of Jim Moriarty grew louder throughout the room. "However, my dear, I can't let you get out of this room. How ironic, three of my dear friends ending their lives in a room for the dead. I'm becoming more poetic, don't you think?" Jim's tinny voice twisted into a laugh, the occupants of 221B looking at one another to check their reactions. Moriarty's voice continued over the speakers, neither male paying attention to the words being said. "I am sorry to end our little games, oh how I have had fun. But now they have reached their end."

Sherlock crossed the space between himself and John in less than a second, a red dot appearing on the front of Molly's chest in the same moment as the consulting detective hurled himself and John out of the window and into the waiting garbage truck beneath which would break their fall.  
Moriarty's voice boomed in their ears as they fell through the air, burning debris following them on their fall down. "Ooops."

The pair landed heavily on the rubbish, John giving a small yelp of pain, Sherlock's thin arms still wrapped around his body. The taller man quickly sat up and looked over the shorter of the pair, "Alright? Are you all right?" He questioned quickly, brushing fallen debris from the explosion off John's quiet form. He slowly stroked the doctor's hair back and looked down at him concerned.  
John's eyes slowly opened again, locking on the younger man's eyes. "Yeah.. I'm fine. You?" Sherlock nodded slowly, not removing his gaze from John's. John smiled slowly. "Well, that was close..."


End file.
